book is not about that.
Nathan brings the competence of a mechanic, the mind of an engineer, the training of an MBA, and the pen of a poet to a topic long abandoned to people with delusions of adequacy. He talks about solutions, ones that deliver desired outcomes, and how to implement them.
His focus is the design of a world that works; as he says, “Don’t do things today that make tomorrow worse.” Good advice.
This book presents a systems approach to crafting answers to the really big challenges, including how to meet human needs on a planet on which all major ecosystems are in decline, and it’s a race to see which will melt first, the Arctic or the economy.
Most of us, if we think about design at all, consider color, or perhaps shape. But reflect that every human artifact was designed by someone. This person made deliberate choices about the utility of the object, the materials used to make it, the manufacturing process chosen, the length of its useful life, and what would happen to it after it was no longer needed. Consciously or by choosing to ignore opportunities, we have created a world in which half a trillion tons of stuff is pulled from the Earth each year, put through various resource-crunching activities, shaped (at great energy cost) into a form, and then thrown away. Of all this stuff, less than one percent is still in use six months after sale. All the rest is waste.
At the moment of conception of an idea, a design, a thought of a product or a process, 80 to 90 percent of the lifetime cost of that widget, program, or pickup truck was committed.
Investing in how designers think, in how we all approach a new idea, is thus crucial if life as we know it is to thrive on this planet.
Nathan has given us the mental model to begin that exploration. He does so with a soft touch, but a ruthless honesty. One of my favorites of his lines is, “Get over the guilt or shock or outrage or embarrassment or disagreement now, because none of it will be useful. We have a lot of work to do.”
It is almost axiomatic that designers are arrogant and indulgent. Nathan is not. He delivers an outstanding primer on the precepts of sustainability, the challenges facing the world, and pragmatic answers in a playful and accessible manner. This book should be part of any curriculum on design, innovation, business, environmental studies, marketing, public policy, engineering, organizational development, and the now rapidly emergent field of sustainability. It should be on the desk of CEOs of all companies that make or deliver anything. It will be required reading for all of my students, and a frequently recommended treat for the companies with whom I consult.
It should be the next book you buy.
—L. Hunter Lovins Author of Natural Capitalism and Sustainability Chair, Presidio School of Management
Introduction
This isn’t a book about sustainable design. Instead, it’s a book about how the design industry can approach the world in a more sustainable way. Design is interconnected—to engineering, management, production, customer experiences, and to the planet. Discussing and comprehending the relationship between design and sustainability requires a systems perspective to see these relationships clearly.
I hate discussions that start with definitions, but the truth is that the terms “sustainable” and “design” at the beginning of the 21st century are both malleable and subjective enough to warrant an explanation. However, I’ll try to get the definitions out of the way quickly and efficiently to get to the larger discussion.
This … is a book about how the design industry can approach the world in a more sustainable way.
What Is Sustainability?
Design is in great transition, thankfully. Traditionally, design has been practiced with a focus on appearance, whether it is represented in graphic, interior, industrial, fashion, furniture, automotive, marine, or any other kind of design. In truth, design has never been merely about appearance, although that’s been the most prominent phenomenon throughout its history. In addition, other disciplines use the word “design” to describe other functions, such as structuring databases, systems, services, or organizations (further confusing its use and meaning). But there have been moments in design’s past where truly great designers showed us that design was also concerned with performance, understanding, communication, emotion, desire, meaning, and humanity itself, even though these haven’t been the most lasting movements.
Ultimately, this is the design that I want to speak about in this book—design that encompasses the synthesis of usefulness, usability, desirability, appropriateness, balance, and systems that lead to better solutions, more opportunities, and better conditions, no matter what the endeavor or domain.
In the end, there is no reason that great design can’t be beautiful and meaningful and sustainable.
Sustainability, too, isn’t well defined—even by its own practitioners. To many, it is synonymous with green[1] (not that green is any more clear) or eco, meaning the environment. To others, it connotes bleeding-heart nouveau hippies, who seem more concerned with plants and animals than people. Sometimes, it’s portrayed as a way to promote old, flawed economics as a way of ensuring “business as usual.” Often, it’s a threat to a way of life that can only, possibly, mean less of everything. Or it can be interpreted as a rational blend of constraints both large and small and a way to serve
human needs on all levels, as well as those of other systems.
Sustainability means more than all of this. It refers to human and financial issues as much as environmental ones. The systems perspective inherent in sustainability encompasses cultural impacts as well as ecological ones, financial constraints as well as physical limits, and heritage and legacy as well as a perspective about the future.
The most agreed-upon definition of sustainability comes from the Brundtland Commission[2] and dates back to 1987:
(Use and) development that meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs.
Put simply: Don’t do things today that make tomorrow worse.
There, that doesn’t sound so silly, or dumb, or dangerous, does it? It sounds like common sense. Unfortunately, designers have been very bad about this. The fact that engineers and politicians and marketers and accountants and business leaders and educators and everyone else have been equally bad doesn’t absolve us from this reality—or our responsibility.
An even deeper meaning to sustainability points to the need to restore natural, social, and economic systems (and the effect they’ve had on society, nature, and markets), and not merely “fix” them to make them perform better. This concept of restoration will be addressed later in this book, but first, let’s be sure we understand how to fix the systems themselves to reduce the damage created and to stop it from advancing.
The essence of this definition, which may not be obvious immediately, is that needs aren’t just human, they’re systemic. Even if you only care about humans, in order to care for humans, you need to take care of the system—(the environment) that you live in. And this environment doesn’t include just the closed system we call the planet Earth. It also includes the human systems we live in— our societies—and the forming, changing, and constantly evolving values, ethics, religion, and culture that encompass these societies. We aren’t separable from each other, and we can’t ignore the effects of the whole—nor should we. Indeed, that’s where much of the humor, cleverness, and fun lie. To take a systems perspective acknowledges that individual perspectives don’t necessarily speak for or represent the whole when talking about the environment, the economy or markets, or any aspect of society. Yet, to take systemic action requires that we act in concert with others, despite our differing approaches. This is what makes sustainability difficult. It is also what poses the biggest design opportunity.
Sustainability, then, needs to